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Similar, but less developed. It sounds a bit like Big Black, probably because it was produced by Albini. "Rhoda" on their s/t EP is a remake of a song on Tweez, but it's a lot more refined than the original.

“Sister Ray” is the sound of a song going nowhere. The lyrics are repetitive and in deliberate bad taste, the rhythm section barely evolves over the entire course of seventeen minutes, but there's so much raw energy driving the song that it continues to go and go without any sort of destination in mind. It's the Grateful Dead for nihilists, instead of listening to a song slowly evolve we listen to a song slowly devolve. From this song it becomes obvious why bands like Times New Viking deliberately use poor recording equipment—the lack of audio quality allows one instrument to overpower the others, and turn the whole song into an indistinguishable pulsating mass of writhing noise. Then as this temporary burst of energy wears off and the voice fades back into the background, the song magically reappears. Each voice carries with it its own distinct hiss and each contributes to the overall aura of feedback, essentially turning the old hierarchy of tone over timbre on its head. It's like listening to a choir of lunatics, most of whom stop singing their designated music and start to scream instead.

This album is beautiful in its simplicity. By abandoning the skeletal cage of chord structures, Ornette Coleman builds the music instead around the seductive beauty of a melodic theme, and the powerful expression of freedom in improvisation. No longer are all musical voices constrained to speak the same language, they come together willingly to express their common theme, and diverge just as consistently to express themselves, all the while maintaining a relation to the others. This is an album of principles—freedom, beauty, unity and individualism, but it does not rely on these principles to justify its greatness, in fact it does not need them at all. It speaks entirely for itself in a distinctly human language.

This was probably the first jazz album I fell in love with, and I still have yet to come across another one which surpasses it. It's right on the border between hard-bop and “real” avant-garde jazz, and because it's still based on melodies retains a common and relatable musical language; a language which is at the same time completely deconstructed and thereby humanized. What can be said about such abstract music to justify one's love for it? I could speak in abstractions, and speak of the relations between the instruments in terms of the harmonious elements of nature, how the bass flows like a river and how the sax seems to hover above it all, communicating in spurts of divinity. I could and I suppose I just have. Ultimately, however, this is an album you must sit down to, and confront directly to figure out if it's speaking to you or if the message was intended for someone else. If you're like me, the revelation will come pretty immediately.